


(un)focused

by titC



Series: February 2017 - Month of Twu Wuv! [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Dan is still wondering what he’s doing here and what is happening around him but whatever, F/M, Father Frank sneaks by, Gen, Linda is as awesome as ever, Maze and mum are definitely not bosom buddies, Trixie is magic, and an uncle, but also has backstory, convenient tweaking of hospital rules for feels-related reasons, dat hospital, google Isra Girgrah, he's a good bro, like a unicorn, no one dies, not even drinking buddies, not-so-sneaky Heart and Soul reference, pump up the whump, random Aramaic, random Greek myth, random bleeding, up dat whump again, whump to 11, whumpage, why did you come to LA doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9662258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Lucifer is shot and ends up at the hospital.Brace for feels.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cuddlewuddlebunny](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cuddlewuddlebunny), [skaoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaoi/gifts), [Grym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grym/gifts).



> From several prompts:  
> [cuddlewuddlebunny](http://cuddlewuddlebunny.tumblr.com/) who gave me, _so I know that the anaesthesia has made you a bit wacky, but really: STOP with the weird pick up lines, we are already a couple!_ Sorry, I really tried to stick to the spirit and failed utterly… Have some angsty feels instead?  
>  Grym who asked for _classic hurt/comfort with a side of Lucifer whump. We know our Devil is vulnerable around Chloe, but so far he hasn't had to deal with any real consequences of that... besides a graze to the leg and some impatient self-cutting while he waited for her to get out of range. What happens when he does?_  
>  Skaoi who asked to see the meeting between Trixie and Charlotte.  
> Thank you so, so much to Moonatoms for her medical eye! ♥

Pain. It was pain, but not unfamiliar pain; it was… something he knew. Something not new. There was a strange taste in his mouth, and he wasn’t quite sure what was up or down or left or right, a bit like the few fleeting moments when he’d managed to start to reach a drugged, drunk, sexed-out state right before it started to slip out of his fingers, back into himself again, back into reality again. Now, reality was – pain. Only pain, for a while.

Then, strong lights shining in his face, and that’s when he realised his eyes were shut. He could see them, probably very bright, flashing red and white and blue and yellow, but muted and soft from behind his lids. He kept them closed.

He thought he could remember there had been pain. Ah, here it was again.

Voices now, terse, orders. Facts? He was jostled – ah, he’d been lying down. Moving now.

Something wet fell on his face, and he remembered the rain.

 

The reports echoed in the narrow alley where Lucifer had been. Someone ran out, throwing their gun to the side, and she tackled them – him – as he ran past her. He was handcuffed in a matter of seconds, his face squashed in a puddle. No one yet was walking out from between the houses, no Lucifer tugging on his jacket and a proud smile on his face at the sight of her, in control, knee on – in, almost – his would-be attacker’s kidneys.

“Shot your buddy,” he said. She may have accidentally slipped a little and pushed his ugly mug harder into the wet, gritty ground. Two shots. She’d heard two shots. And he wasn’t coming out.

A door opened in the alley and a silhouette appeared in the square of light. Then a scream.

“LAPD!” Chloe shouted.”What is it?”

“Blood! So much blood!” The door slammed shut.

Her hand shaking, she twisted to grab her phone and call for reinforcements and an ambulance. She couldn’t lose it, she couldn't lose it… And she couldn’t even run far away to let Lucifer heal by himself, which he _would_ as long as he was still – not going there. She was a cop and she wasn’t moving, not as long as she had a shooter to keep under control.

The next few minutes were very long. Another door opened, a silhouette bent over something – someone – on the ground. “He’s still alive!”

A breath. Another. “Is he conscious?”

“Not with that much blood outside, I don’t think. Putting pressure now. That’s what they do on TV, yeah?”

“Yeah. Good.” Her throat closed up, and then Chloe put pressure herself, on the shooter’s back.

It had only been supposed to be a quick recon of the neighborhood, not… not a disaster.

 

A whirlwind of cars and medics and officers, and then she could see them loading his body on a gurney. She rooted in her pocket for her car keys and remembered he had been driving for once, and she had no means to follow the ambulance and – oh god, what if he started healing in the middle of an exam, or worse? She had to keep close, and she couldn’t, and…

“Hey, aren’t you going to the hospital?”

She wished Dan were here, a fellow cop and a friend, but he was with Trixie tonight. “My partner had the car keys, and…” She showed her empty hands.

“No worries, I’ll give you a lift.” Nameless good Samaritan officer didn’t say anything on the way there.

Good.

 

He’d never told her how far she’d have to be for him to be his invulnerable self again, but she suspected it was quite a lot, and perhaps even growing. After all, he hadn’t been affected by bullets when they’d been investigating Delilah’s murder together, but later on…

She (presumably) thanked the officer as she rushed out of the car, eyes already on the hospital doors. She suddenly recalled him driving her here like a maniac, his eyes jumping from the road to her face, from terror to, well. Something else. Something she’d been hoping for, something she’d wanted to take a chance on, something he’d crushed when he’d left – crushed, because this something had been real already, in both of them.

He’d helped her to the doors because she’d refused to be carried, and in true Lucifer fashion he’d carried her and let her pretend she was walking. I’m okay, she’d repeated. I’m okay now, I’m not that sick, I’m not that weak. She’d been so scared. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see it.

Now Chloe was the one whose heart felt frozen in her chest.

 

She waved her badge, dropped the name of a bigwig doctor who’d worked on her case when she’d been poisoned, didn’t budge until a woman walked to her.

“Detective Decker? I heard you were asking about one of our patients. Dr Isra Girgrah,” she added holding out her hand. “I understand he’s your partner?”

Chloe shook her hand. “Yeah. Lucifer – Lucifer Morningstar.” the doctor raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I know. Real name though.” God-given, even. She forced herself to slow her breathing. Quell her panic. “How is he?” Don’t cry, don’t break down, don’t start sobbing or you’ll never stop.

“He’s… well. Still alive, which is good for someone with two GSWs to the gut. He lost a lot of blood, probably also knocked his head on the curb falling down. We’re prepping him for surgery right now. I’m sorry to ask, but do you know his blood type? We’ve been giving him bags of O positive but when we try to test his blood it… well, we can’t.” She looked puzzled for a second, then plowed on. “We’d rather not use all our stock for him if we can avoid it. I’m sorry, this is abrupt, but…”

“No, no, it’s fine.” So not fine. Breathe. _So much blood_ , the woman had screamed. So much blood, outside of him. “I don’t know, I can call his brother though? Maybe he knows.”

Dr Girgrah looked grateful. “If you learn anything, it would be a big help. We’re going to try and repair the damage done, but it’s delicate work and it’s going to take some time. A few hours, probably. You might want to call his family, though. I mean, apart from his brother.”

Chloe swallowed. “Yeah, I will.” Amenadiel, Maze. Linda. His mum. Trixie. Her stomach turn to lead.

The doctor looked young but competent, determined and with that little humane flame in her eye that warmed Chloe’s heart just the tiniest bit. Good people doing their best. She had to trust them. She had to.

She watched the doctor hurry away and sat in the nearest chair. Waiting. All there was left to do now – waiting. His future, their future, was out of their hands. She didn't dare contemplate in whose hands it was. With a wry twist of her mouth, she grabbed her phone in hers, and started making her calls.

 

Maze was the first to arrive, stalking through with murder on her face and fear in her eyes. She handed a coffee to Chloe and got a flask out from god – from somewhere. Probably the same place she could keep knives on her tight-leather-wearing person, one could only assume. They waited in silence until Amenadiel and Charlotte joined them.

His mother looked frantic and Amenadiel wasn’t much better. It was hard sometimes to remember they were family; even after all the absolute hell – hah – she’d put her sons through. She did love them, somehow. If Trixie had been the one in there… Okay. She could do this. Deep breath, you’re a cop, you’re steady. Steady.

“He got shot while we were on a case. Twice, in the gut.” Maze hissed. She knew that was bad. “He’s in surgery now.”

“But why didn’t you run away to let him heal?” There was cold fury in Charlotte’s voice. Once in a while, she reminded Chloe of who she actually was; someone powerful and angry and occasionally blood-thirsty, who only tolerated her, so far, because she deemed her good to her son; and probably because he’d given her no choice.

“I couldn’t. I caught the guy who shot him and had to keep him down and…” But maybe she should have. Maybe she'd let her sense of duty, her vow to protect the citizens, put the devil’s life on the line; and wasn’t that horribly ironic? She let her head fall back in her hand, as if dragged down by the weight of her necklace. Without thinking, she curled her fingers around the little plastic angel.

“I’m not sure she could have anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Amenadiel, aka _that oaf_ , aka _the big lug_ , aka Lucifer’s favorite brother. Sometimes, their bickering made her wish for her own sibling. Or siblings. Maze’s answer shook her out of her musings.

“She’d have had to run pretty far away.”

“How far?”

“ _Far_. As in, a few miles. Too far to get to before he bled out, probably.” Maze turned her head to look at Chloe. “We tested it. And it doesn't get at least better with distance either. It’s all or nothing.”

So she was killing him. She was his death, and he was her life; in this very hospital, where he’d been there both times when she’d woken up sore and alive and told him _thank you for saving me_.

“Can he…” She couldn’t say it.

“Who knows?” Maze sat next to her and handed her the flask. Chloe was tempted, really she was.

But she resisted, because she wanted – needed – to be as clear-headed as she could be, and she was already sleep-deprived and worried and over-caffeinated; and so they all waited there, Amenadiel pacing, Charlotte glaring at the ceiling, and Maze disappearing at intervals. Chloe pretended she couldn't guess she was looking for deserving people to terrorize.

It was very early in the morning when Dr Girgrah reappeared. “You are Mr Morningstar’s family?”

“I’m his brother,” Amenadiel said.

She quickly wiped her look of surprise from her face. “Ah, yes. I got you message about the blood. We’ve made a serious dent in our O positive stocks, but we’re… hopeful.”

Four pair of eyes converged on her face. “Er. The surgery went as well as could be expected, and there were no setbacks. He’s in the ICU now.”

“Can we see my brother?”

“Well he… I’m sorry, but I have to ask: you look kind of familiar.” She moved on the balls of her feet, lithe and alert, and that’s when Chloe realized he’d shaved his goatee, kept his beanie, and turned his back to every security guard that had ever walked past them. “Have you ever been a patient, or…?”

“No, I haven’t.”

She frowned but eventually shrugged and relaxed. “I guess you just remind me of someone. As for your brother, he’s really not out of the woods yet and…”

“Please.”

“You’ll be warned as soon as you can visit him; we’ll call you. It’s standard procedure, we simply need to make sure there are no immediate complications.”

Charlotte opened her mouth, but if she started demanding to see her _son_ more questions would be asked, and his brother had already given enough cause for suspicion. Chloe quickly thanked Dr Girgrah and herded them in the direction of the cafeteria.

 

Amenadiel tried to get them to eat some food, but everyone ignored his mumbling about sandwiches and muesli and fruit. He sulked over his tea while Maze glared at the last drops from her flask that she poured in her black-as-sin coffee.

Still, one couldn’t get Lucifer’s mother to shut up for long if she wanted to talk, and Chloe could see she was boiling to say something – anything. He was very much her son in that, she mused as she decided she maybe should cut down on the caffeine if she wanted to remain inside her own skin. It felt like her heart and her eyes and her gut and her hands and her mouth and her lungs wanted to be right next to Lucifer, while the rest of her was too exhausted to even think about the possibility of moving. Or dealing with his mother.

“What is that horrendous thing you’re wearing around your neck?”

Why did she have to go for that topic? Chloe slowly unfolded her fingers from around the cheap plastic pendant. Of course Charlotte had honed in on her nervous fiddling. “It’s a present.”

“Not from my son, I hope. He’s got better taste than that.”

“From your daughter?” Amenadiel asked.

“Yeah. Sort of.” She saw Maze’s half smile from the corner of her eye.

“But do you have to wear it? It’s just…” She made a moue.

“Didn’t you ever wear or cherish you children’s gifts, even if they were not objective masterpieces?”

“My children never made something as… gaudy. Lucifer gave me stars, he made them explode in supernovas and into nebulae to please my eye.” She looked through the window next to them. “He lit candles for me and made fire in our hearth and… nothing like that.”

“What about Charlotte’s children?”

She sniffed. “They know better than to give me such things.”

Maze rolled her eyes, fingering the black and gray friendship bracelet Trix had made for her. Chloe felt a bit lighter. “It’s actually Lucifer who won it for Trixie at a game. She liked it, but then she gave it to me.” And she’d looked so proud too, as if she felt it was more than a piece of glitter-filled plastic. As if she’d been carrying rings or tying a knot between them. She’d turned to him and said, _it could be our present to mommy so she always has a guardian angel_. Chloe found she couldn’t part with it, a reminder of both her loves there against her skin – a reminder of his eyes when she’d accepted it, full of care and still surprised that someone could value him, could _want_ him. He hadn’t even protested when Trix had taken his hand and kept it in hers all the rest of the afternoon, dragging him everywhere while Chloe snapped picture after picture. A perfect day, that seemed so long ago now. It had only been three weeks, though – an eternity.

Amenadiel almost spilled his tea when Chloe’s phone buzzed.

They could finally see him.

 

Linda was there, waiting for them in front of the door leading to the ICU. Wordlessly, she handed a little bottle of vodka to Maze. Their fingers brushed as she said, “You should have woken me.”

“You need more sleep than I do.”

“Still.” Her eyes left Maze to the rest of them. “How are you all holding up?”

“You’re not here to _work_ , Linda.” But, Chloe thought, maybe it helped her – pretend she was useful, pretend it was her job.

“I want to go first,” Charlotte said. “I’m his mother.”

“They said groups of two, for a short visit at first. Maybe Chloe should go in with you. I’ll see my brother right after.”

Maze only glared at Charlotte, but didn’t say anything; and then it was time to face her fears and hopes. He’d be fine. He’d be awake, he’d be in pain, he’d be smiling and grimacing, he’d be looking at her and unable to focus, there would be blood and clean bandages, beeping and flashing lights and his voice would be silenced. She longed to hear him, feel him. Breathe him in, hold his hand, kiss his lips, watch his eyes widen then narrow with his smile. Happy.

Chloe was so lost in her thoughts, she almost missed his mum choking a scream and running to him. She’d probably never seen anyone in a hospital. Never cared. She forced her eyes to go from her to… him. She followed more quietly, not wanting to risk being thrown out for making too much noise.

Walking around the bed, she finally saw him. There was no (visible) blood, at least. He was pale, pale and small and surrounded by machines and tubes; the beeps and hisses and hushed voices around them so far from Lux, from his piano. She took his cold fingers in hers while Charlotte was running her hand in his hair, on his cheek, whispering to him. He kept being silent and colorless and still. His chest hardly even moved when he breathed – but at least he breathed. At least he breathed.

After a minute or two, though, she felt his hand twitch, and his eyes started moving under his lids. His lips parted, and finally – finally – his head slightly turned to Charlotte’s side. He was trying to say something, but no sound came out, and finally a nurse joined them.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe asked.

“Nothing so far, just checking.” He made a few notes and reminded them not to stay too long before leaving without commenting on Lucifer’s slow waking up. Probably nothing to worry about, she hoped. They should probably have Linda, Maze and Amenadiel come in now, then let him rest.

“Mum?” It was only a broken whisper, an exhale ending on a wrecked, post-surgery voice, so quiet and yet loud enough to make everything else fade around them. Chloe wondered for an instant how he could know it was really his mum if he didn’t remember the present. This body she inhabited, the voice she used were, after all, quite recent acquisitions. Maybe they recognized something else in each other, something intangible and divine. Maybe Charlotte’s twisted love for her son bled through to him in any form she took.

“I’m here, Lucifer.” He turned his head into her palm, and his eyes finally slitted open. “You’re going to be fine, son. I’m here.”

But it didn’t seem to work, and he grew restless; turning his head away from Charlotte and his hand trying weakly to get out of Chloe’s. She only held harder; but then the beeping quickened and the nurse came back.

“What is happening?”

“Heart rate is higher than it should be, probably nothing but we check every little thing. Hm.”

“What?” Curt, power attorney voice.

“I’m going to ask you to leave while we assess the situation. We’ll tell you as soon as we know more.”

What was happening? They moved away from the bed, until they heard Lucifer’s raspy, scratchy words. “Emmi, Emmi, lama sabachthani?”

The nurse froze, then sprang back into action and yelled for a doctor after a quick glance at them, motionless in the doorway. Chloe dragged Charlotte out. “What did he say?”

“Mother? Mother, what happened? You look…”

“He woke up. He woke up and I think he wasn’t entirely there.”

“He said something as the nurse sent us out. It wasn’t in English though.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes and held out her hand, demanding, in Maze’s direction. “I need the alcohol. Give it to me.” Maze only stared back, grim-faced and jaw clenched. “Demon.”

“Queen bitch.”

“Ladies.” Linda rooted through a bag. “I thought several of you might need some.” She extracted another bottle and gave it to Charlotte, who quickly unscrewed the top and downed a third of it.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking both softer and steadier at the same time. “It was Aramaic.” Amenadiel’s eyebrows went up. “He said, Mum, why have you abandoned me?”

“That was… Mother, that was…”

“Yes.”

“That was what? Why is he saying that? What have you done, again?”

“Not _again_ , Mazikeen. He thought he was in the past. The long ago past, when he told me those words for the first time.”

“When was – oh.” Linda took Maze’s vodka for some probably ill-advised, much-needed self-medication. “That’s not good, is it.”

No one answered her. No one needed to.

 

Things were hazy, hazy and… painful? He thought that was the word. A sensation you wanted to escape, couldn’t escape, fought and lost against, over and over again. He knew pain existed, dad had told them when they wrestled for fun that if it didn’t feel like play anymore they should stop, or it would be bad. It was bad now.

He thought someone touched him gently, someone talked to him… Two someones. He knew them. He knew their soothing presence (deep, dark waters and a clear, pure stream), their warmth (a fireplace in wintertime and the scorching sun in the desert), their smells (both chasing the smell of blood and death and antiseptic); he recognized how they felt. Mum? He tried to get closer, closer – until a sharp spike cut through his soul, and he needed to escape escape. She looked on, impassible; and they threw him out, and down he went.

Annoying, shrill sounds around him; his body manhandled. He had no control, and he was terrified. Where was his family? Where was Amenadiel? Their big brother always came to help, didn’t he? Like the time he’d flown high, high, too high, too far away and tired his still young wings so much he couldn’t get back on his own. He’d been so scared. But no one would come now, would they? Everything was ash, and he was all alone in a grey, dead world.

Voices around him, voices he didn’t understand; more jostling. Then, things calmed down again. The pain was still there, though. Everywhere. Could he rip his soul from his body, halve himself to halve the pain? His skin burned, but he felt very cold inside, as cold as the coldest, darkest place in the universe where he’d lit stars and warmed himself with his father’s grace. Before.

He felt himself slip under again, blanketed by the pain and the discordant noises.

 

After a doctor had come to tell them they could let two of them come in his room for a few minutes, Maze and Amenadiel braced themselves and went in.

“It’s probably just the anesthetics,” Linda said. “Some of them can trigger hallucinations or, or dissociation. It’s fine. Perfectly normal.”

His mother didn’t seem convinced, though. “But why did he have to go back to his worst memory?”

Maybe because you were there, Chloe thought but didn’t say. She knew he still had very conflicted feelings towards her, and probably always would; even if Charlotte herself seemed unable – or unwilling – to see it. Who knew with, you know, a goddess. “What if I went away for the day? Let him heal?”

“It would certainly cause a stir in the hospital – if he did heal.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, doctor, what do you mean?”

The corner of Linda’s mouth twisted down. “Maze said it is now, ah, unreliable.” She shifted under their stares. “If he’s away from Chloe, he is just as immortal and invulnerable as ever. If he’s hurt nearby, he’ll heal faster than a human but still more slowly than his normal, within or without range.”

“So even if I leave now, it won’t change anything?”

“Probably not.”

“I do not like this. I do not like what you’re making of my son.”

“I do not like what you’ve done to him either.”

“I did it out of love.”

“Did you, though?” Who did she think she was, to lecture her on love? Chloe had felt on edge since the shooting, holding on out of sheer will and caffeine; but if Charlotte had the utter gall…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of Maze and Amenadiel. They both looked very gray.

“What is it?”

“He’s still stuck in his memories, mother.”

“What happened this time?”

“I talked to him and he… he turned into his devil self. His eyes, his face, it’s just…” He swallowed. “And he looked like he was in pain. Maze managed to distract the nurse with questions until he became human-looking again, at least.” Damn. “But then he started bleeding from his back, and they threw us out.”

Maze didn’t say anything, her eyes the only sign she felt anything at all in her unmoving face – guilt from her own memories, wrath for Lucifer’s sake, fury that she had to feel so many things. By now, Chloe knew her easily enough she could take a guess. Maze had never agreed with Lucifer’s decision to cut off his wings, and she probably hadn’t forgiven him making her do it. Not that he could have asked anybody else, but she _wished_ it had been anybody else – no, she wished it had been no one. No one at all. That’s what Chloe had gathered from a drunken evening, at least.

“I guess we won’t be allowed in for a long while now. They must be trying to figure out what’s wrong, and since they can’t understand…” Linda looked at the door, as if she wanted to see through it to his body, laid out on a white narrow bed and surrounded by cold metal, lifeless plastic and hurt. “We should take a break from the hospital. Go have lunch somewhere, regroup.”

Chloe agreed, even though it pained her to get away from him. But her proximity wasn’t helping him right now anyway. “We’re no use here at the moment, and we ought to be ready for when he needs us.” Because he would, right? He would. She feared his reaction to her next visit, but she tried to shove her worry out of her mind for the time being. What good could it do?

 

The coffee-shop food was tasteless, but at least it was fuel. She gazed out of the window, hoping for something, hoping for a sign. But the sky remained the same uniform yellowish blue; unreachable, divine perfection far above a haze of human pollution.

The jingle of the door made them turn their heads, and Chloe had just enough time to shove her chair back a bit before Trixie ran into her arms.

“Is it true, mommy? Is Lucifer hurt?”

She tightened her arms around her daughter. “Yes, it’s true. But the doctors are taking care of him now.” She looked up at Dan’s worried face. He didn’t quite buy into the devil and angel thing, but he’d accepted they were not entirely human, at least. He’d seen too much not to, however unsettled he seemed at the idea. Chloe felt grateful for his acceptance, however grudging at times, of the extended family they’d created. She breathed in Trixie’s smell for a little bit more before releasing her.

“So he’ll be fine?”

“I’m sure he will.”

“When you were sick he saved you.” The little monkey slid back down to the floor and went to fist-bump Maze and hug Linda, who was a bit less uncomfortable with hugs than demons seemed to be. Trixie then moved to Amenadiel and faced him, fists on her hips. Her baby girl was both fierce and adorable. “And you were my mom’s guardian angel. Who’s guarding Lucifer?”

“I…” He looked stricken.

“Come on, monkey, even guardian angels need food, right?”

She looked back at Dan. “Oh! Yes!” she said, before throwing her arms around Amenadiel. He looked a bit overwhelmed, his eyes unfocused for a moment before he let her scramble off his lap to the floor.

Everyone held their breath when she turned to Charlotte, although Dan had probably more reason than the others to feel awkward. They had all noticed Trixie’s peculiar connection with celestial beings (and had done their best to ignore what it could mean); but Lucifer’s mother was in another category entirely. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lucifer and Amenadiel’s mother.”

“You don’t look like their mother.”

“I can assure you it’s true.” She probably felt more like their mother than she did her human children’s, Chloe thought. Although she’d gotten much better in that role, and had managed to make that human family happy after a very rocky start, from what Maze had told her (chaining her son to a post? Really? Made one wonder how she’d parented her angelic offspring, really).

“You’re… scary.”

“Scary? You don’t seem scared.”

“You’re cold like a knife, but I’m not afraid of knives.”

“And my sons aren’t… knives?”

Trixie shook her head, making her hair fly around her head. “Nah. Lucifer is warmth and light, and Amenadiel is safe and strong.” Charlotte tilted her head. It was impossible to tell whether she was amused or insulted. “And he gives the best hugs.”

“And Lucifer doesn’t?”

“Only to mom. I think…” she lowered her voice, and a particularly impish look crossed her face. “I think he’s afraid of me.” Dan snickered before catching himself. “But he cheers me up.”

“He does, doesn’t he.”

“He said when he was very young his _mum_ was _lovely_ just like my mom.” She enunciated more slowly as she tried to imitate his accent. “But I don’t think he was talking about you.”

Charlotte’s face crumpled, and Chloe decided to be generous and give her a minute to regroup. “Trixie, when was that?”

“When he was helping me with your cake for Mother’s Day.”

“Ah, you mean when I found you two covered in flour and glitter, and looking very guilty?”

“…Maybe?”

“Child. Why did you think he wasn’t talking about me?”

“Because he looked a little sad and he said now his mom – his _mum_ didn’t really like him anymore because he didn’t do what she asked and because he hurt her when he did really bad things.” She looked at Chloe. “He told me _my_ mom would always love me.” Of course I will, monkey. Always and forever.

“I love my son. I love all my children.”

“I know,” Trixie said. “You have the gift we made for you.” Charlotte’s hand curled around a transparent little bauble tied to her purse. That was when Chloe realized she had the almost same one tied to her bedside lamp; a pink carnation bud for his mother, a white one for her; both somehow preserved in a sort of handmade snow-globe. “So you can’t be the mom who doesn’t like him, right?”

Charlotte looked outside and tried to get her face back under control, and everyone around the table did their best to ignore her and advise Trixie on the right milkshake to order.

 

On the table, between the dregs of her coffee and a crumbled up, mostly uneaten sandwich, Chloe’s phone buzzed.

“It’s the hospital,” she said once she’d hung up. “We can go back.”

There was a general sigh around the table, half relief and half apprehension; and they all stood up and walked back to the cold cold room with the too-white walls. And Lucifer’s red blood, so prompt to leave his body when she was around.

Sometimes, Chloe wondered what his father had had in mind, when he’d asked Amenadiel to bless her mother. She’d never really understood why, really. She knew Lucifer was still waiting for the other celestial shoe to drop on him and crush his hopes, but she also knew Charlotte herself viewed her like both a key to heaven and her own personal nemesis for her son’s affection; and she’d also noticed how they all looked at Trixie, as if they expected her to start turning water into wine or multiply tacos at any moment. The thought was too scary to contemplate, really; and Lucifer’s still inexplicable fragility around her was almost reassuring in comparison.

She was grateful when they walked back into the ICU and could focus on the here and now and not the whys, hows and what ifs of all things divine.

 

Time was strange; slow and fast and disappearing and reappearing and jumping all around. It felt like he’d fallen from heaven just a few moments before and then he was bleeding on warm sand and dead feathers; feeling each and every punch Amenadiel hit him with and begging and crying for his father’s mercy, his mother’s help – for a gesture, even the smallest one, that he could still have a few scraps of the affection he’d believed eternal, the love he’d been promised at birth but that was unable to withstand too many questions, too much dissatisfaction and desire and restlessness.

Everything hurt, his back was on fire and his head throbbed and his stomach felt like it was stabbed again and again and again. Or like eagles were eating his liver, maybe; their wings taunting him and their beaks so sharp and their eyes so merciless. He couldn’t escape them, chained to a rock, cold at night and burned by the sun in the day; mocking laughter in his ears. Struggle as he might, it was useless. He was useless.

He hardly felt his quick descent into darkness.

 

“Why did you restrain him?” Chloe asked the nurse – a different one from this morning.

“It’s for his own safety.” Chloe crossed her arms; there was something else. “It’s part of the medical procedure.” More glaring. “Your partner is in the best of hands.”

“Yes, I know that. It’s not that I don’t trust you, really. It’s just…” She sighed, looking at his pale pale face, the only spot of color the purple bruises under his eyes. “He hates it. He hates it and he’s going to struggle as soon as he realizes he’s restrained.”

The nurse flipped through Lucifer’s chart. “We’re giving him the strongest painkillers we have, but he’s still in pain; we’re not sure why. They seem to give him more hallucinations than relief, and he’s fighting them and hurting himself more in the process. We can’t give him nothing either, because after a while he does seem to slip under and he looks peaceful for 10, 15 minutes; then it starts again. It’s… we don’t know what’s happening.”

Well, how could they, really? “Can we take them off for a bit? Please?” She added at the nurse’s dubious look. Who cared anyway, she’d untie them herself if the nurse didn’t. It was probably against all sorts of protocol for proper care, but the idea of tying him up to a bed… Well, he’d probably enjoy it in other circumstances. It felt like her first smile since last night, and she suddenly realized how often she smiled around him the rest of the time; even if she didn’t always let him see it (no need to stoke his ego too much, really).

As soon as she sat next to him, he turned his head to her, like she was his sun. His eyes were mostly closed, only a sliver of warm brown visible from under his reddened lids. She ran her hand along his arm, lingering on the marks left by the restraints when he’d fought them.

“Hey,” she whispered. “We got the bastard who did this to you; and yes, he was our perp. He won’t hurt anyone else for a while.” His lips moved, but no sound came out. “I still hate you for getting yourself shot, you know?” Her voice wavered, and she raised his hand to her lips. “I need you. I need the eggs and I need your jokes and I need your… and I need you, Lucifer; you and your Lucifer-ness. Don’t let me spend another entire day with both your mother and Maze in the same room with me, I beg you.” Her laugh was a little wet, but she laughed still. She had to. He would be fine, wouldn’t he? “Trix wants to see you too, and Linda.”

She brushed his hair back. Between the rain and the long hours in surgery and in this very bed, it had gone wild again; but the curls he usually took so much pain to hide seemed weak and not as tight as she knew they could be. She’d seen him just after a shower, still damp and not done up at all; she’d made him forgo all hair product a few times. He’d groused but complied, as he always did when she asked something, anything of him. She’d never doubted his affection for her, even when she hadn’t known its depth and exact nature. Now she knew, and it was – staggering. Frightening, almost.

But then again, so was hers for him.

 

When he emerged again from the darkness, he still felt like something was tying him – no, not tying, not tying at all. He wasn’t chained down anymore. But there was still something around his wrist, something soft and warm and… familiar? Comforting, even; anchoring. It held the pain at bay, a little. Dulled it. Warmed him. He tried to turn his head, and he thought… he thought there was a bit of light now, maybe?

He remembered his mum running her hands through his hair, praising him, loving him; but then… no, he shouldn’t think about that. He watched his thoughts, disjointed and hazy, float through the sky as he was bobbing on a strange sea. A gentle lullaby, was it a lullaby? It was soft and sweet and there had been a heaviness inside made lighter for a few moments; it drifted through his memory, strings vibrating under little hammers – his lips tried to shape words, he thought… yes, that was it; he hadn’t been alone. He’d thought he would be, and he hadn’t been; and for the first time in so long he could only remember he’d forgotten it all, there had been something. Something like a blanket when you were cold, something like a kiss on the forehead when Michael had been a bit rough in play; like, oh, like lighting a star in the sky except the sky was inside you.

 

Chloe watched him shift a bit; not in a way that seemed to foretell a crisis of some sort though, more like someone half-dreaming. The nurse was keeping an eye on them after she’d untied the restrains, but if anything she looked pleasantly surprised. She’d even stopped fingering a syringe of some sort.

His eyes were moving under his mostly closed lids, his lips parted. She realized he was forming words, that he was trying to say something, and she bent that bit closer. “Lucifer,” she whispered.

“There in the sea mist,” he murmured – or hummed, rather, “your lips were thrilling.” Chloe’s heart stuttered a bit, but she held on, held on to his hand. “That little kiss you stole,” he paused, his breath short still. “Held my heart and soul.”

He seemed to melt back down into the bed then, his eyes closing fully again. He looked at peace at last, each inhale and exhale a bit easier, a bit fuller than the one before. His face smoothed, and she realized he’d looked like he’d been in pain until just now.

“I fell in love with you heart and soul,” she whispered back, “the way a fool would do madly.”

When she left the room, the nurse didn’t put the restraints back on.

 

The next day, early on a bright Sunday morning, they were told he’d been moved out of the ICU. The analgesics were finally working, he was finally resting, he’d finally stopped fighting care. He was healing, they said.

Chloe stood before the door, Linda at her side.

“Thank you for being here.”

“Where else would I be?”

“I mean, you spent all day with us yesterday, you didn’t even go in, and…” She sighed.

“He needs you more than anyone else. _You_ don’t come with betrayal and bitterness and memories of hell.”

“You don’t either, Linda.”

“But I dredge it all up in our sessions. It’s not surprising he only calmed down after you went in on your own yesterday.”

“But you’re coming with now.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

They pushed the door and walked to his bed.

Chloe immediately slipped her fingers between his, and they watched his eyelids flutter, the corners of his mouth lift up a little. “Hey,” she said.

“Mmm.”

“How are you feeling?”

The tiniest sliver of warm brown appeared from under his long lashes. “S’nice dream.”

“Not a dream, Lucifer. I’m here.”

“Mum said. Not real. But nice dream Detective.” His voice was low and still a bit raspy, but much better than the day before.

“Not a dream Detective. The real one.” She looked at Linda. What was he on about?

“I think it’s the hospital. It reminds him of, you know. He’s half under, but waking up.” She looked at his chart. “He’s still getting heavy doses of painkillers.”

Lucifer turned his head a bit. “Doctor…?” He slurred a bit, and it sounded more like _Dahctah_ than _Doctor_ , really. “Saw your uncle’s cell in hell, you know.”

Chloe felt her eyebrows try to climb up into her hair, looking from him to Linda. “Ah, good. Good.”

“You’ll never see him again,” he whispered.

“Well, when I…”

“You’ll see Clara.” His eyes slid closed again, and the room felt suddenly emptier. A cloud must have passed in front of the sun, because the light that had been bathing the bed faded.

“What… What just happened?” Linda was staring fixedly into the distance, her lips parted. It didn’t look like she’d heard her. “Linda?”

“I… I’ll be outside.” She was clearly shaken. “It’s fine. All good. I’m good. You stay here.”

Chloe watched her hurry out, and hoped Maze had arrived. She seemed to need the support, whatever had just occurred. Dragging a stool closer, she sat next to the bed, her fingers still twined with his. The cloud must have gone away, because the room was bright again. He blinked when a ray of light hit his eyes, and half-opened them. They were unfocused, as if the world around him was hazy and confusing; until he found her.

“Heaven-sent,” he said.

She smiled. “You’re heaven-made, Lucifer.”

“No, no… Hell. Formula.”

“You did it. You did it, and you saved me.” And then you ran away and you broke my heart, but at least now I know why you did it. You were heartbroken too.

“I did? Oh.” He stirred, a bit restless.

“Stay with me.” He tried to get his hand out of hers, but she resisted. “It’s real. We’re real.”

“But…” His breath caught in his chest, but he wasn’t outright panicking like yesterday.

“Lucifer, please. Don’t you trust me?” He gazed at her like he she was his one fixed, safe place in the whole world. His fingers tightened around hers. “This is all over. You saved me, again. It’s all in the past.”

“Safe?”

“Yes, I am. Now you need to heal, so we can go back to my place and Trixie and I can pamper you, all right?” Confusion was all over his face. “Okay, and Maze; but her idea of pampering might be a bit strange. I’ll make you those sandwiches you like, and you can spend the days watching those movies you enjoy so much, but you’re still forbidden to flash the red eyes at the neighbors when they listen to Céline Dion, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, cautious, as if he didn’t dare believe her. Believe it. She kept her expression as open as she could, hoping he’d see the truth there too.

He tried to keep watching her, as if he struggled to understand what she was really telling him because it didn’t make any sense; but she could see his face grow slack as he was losing the fight against sleep. She lifted his hand and kissed his palm, careful not to jostle the IV line too much; and when he’d finally slid back into unconsciousness she stood up and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her.

 

When she reached the coffee-shop of the day before, she only found Amenadiel, Maze and Trixie, who immediately ran to her.

“Hey, monkey.” She looked up. “I got your message, but I thought Linda would be here?”

“She said she needed a break.”

“And…” She waved a hand. “Your mother?”

“I think she’s avoiding your daughter.” That was… okay, it was funny. Sad, but funny.

“Right.”

“So how’s he, Decker?”

“Still a bit confused, but much better. He’s asleep now.”

“Can I go see him, mom?”

“Yes, but not now. We have to let him rest.”

“Oh.”

Amenadiel must have clued on Chloe and Maze exchanging looks and Trixie’s slightly disappointed face, because he got up and said, “do you want to go to the beach until then?”

Chloe gave him a grateful smile and watched them go, her little hand in his big one. She knew he’d never let anything hurt her, and she could see Maze wanted to talk without a child between them.

“So, Linda? Is she okay?”

“She will be.”

“I hope so. There was… I’m not sure Lucifer knew what he was talking about.”

Maze grimaced. “It just… came out, I guess. He’d probably wanted to tell her for a while and didn’t know how.”

“He never knows how.”

“True.” She sighed. “I’d really like something stronger,” she told her (very probably doctored) coffee. She took a deep breath, like someone about to rip a band-aid off. “Her uncle abused her. For years.” She took a gulp of her coffee, made a face. “She shot him when he took an interest in her sister too. It was ruled self-defense and she managed to get it erased from her records because she was a minor then, she said. Is that how it works here? No one stopped the guy, tortured him?”

“Sort of, yeah. I know, it’s… awful.” She didn’t quite think she had the words, to be honest. “And she feels guilty because of that?”

“No. Well, maybe. But her sister still killed herself.”

That… was even more horrible. Unexpected, and horrible. “Does she know you’re telling me?”

“Yeah.”

They both looked at the cars driving by, sometimes a truck, sometimes an ambulance. Oh, Linda. Sometimes, she could really understand Lucifer’s rage at sinners. If someone dared lay a finger on Trixie… Yes, she’d rip them apart. “You’re right. Let’s go get lunch and have something stronger than coffee with it.”

 

Back in the hospital room, Chloe watched Maze sneak in and snap a picture or ten of the tableau they were making. She’d have to get one printed and framed, really. Trixie was dozing, squeezed between the bed railing and Lucifer. Her head was on his shoulder and she’d flung an arm over his chest; and he had curled his own arm around her as if he even in his sleep he tried to prevent her from falling. Not that there was any risk, but it was still cute. As was his face turned into her little monkey’s hair, fluttering with each of his slow, regular breaths. It didn’t make _him_ sneeze, apparently.

Dan walked in and took in the scene, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he whispered. “Look who’s a big bad marshmallow.”

He rested his hand on Chloe’s shoulder, and they exchanged a smile before he took a minute to commit the sight to his memory. They may be divorced, but really – she was lucky. “Maze took some photos.”

“Perfect.” He took his hand away to rummage into his backpack, and held a box out to her. “Here. Ella says hi, and sends cookies.”

“Oh, great. I’ll have to hide them from Maze though.”

“Guess you should, yeah.” He turned to the bed. “Hey, Trix. It’s late, time to go home with daddy, yeah?” She didn’t move. “Fine. Carrying it is.” He carefully pushed the IV to the side so it wouldn’t get tangled, and grasped Lucifer’s wrist to lift his arm. Which must have felt like a band of steel, given the veins suddenly gracing Dan’s red face. “What the hell, man?”

“Not quite.” Lucifer’s eyes slitted open, and two red irises stared at him. “She’s sleeping, let her be.”

“Yeah, no. Look, it was scary the first time but not anymore, and now it’s getting late and she’s got school tomorrow.”

Lucifer blinked and his eyes returned to their more usual brown. “Can still kick your arse.”

“Yeah, sure. Don’t doubt it for a minute. Look, I’ll bring those kung-fu movies when you’re out and we’ll marathon them, yeah?”

Looking ridiculously put upon, Lucifer sighed. “Fine. But I’m cooking.”

“No way. We’re ordering takeaway.”

“I hate you,” he said; but he finally removed his arm.

Her little monkey stopped pretending she was sleeping and giggled when her father tried to grab her. “Can I come?”

“No, Trix. They’re grownup movies.”

“Oh.” She opened her hand and dropped a little plastic angel on Lucifer’s chest. “So you remember mommy and me during the night.” He picked it up and stared at it, then her face. “Thank you,” he finally said after a while.

Chloe helped him sit up in the bed while Dan got Trixie down  after she’d hugged her former pillow  goodbye ,  and  she kissed her daughter. “Be nice with daddy tomorrow, yeah? You know he doesn’t like mornings.”

“I promise. Bye, mommy! Bye, Lucifer!” 

Chloe slipped her hand in his over the thin blanket as they watched them leave the room.

“I can’t believe you’re planning a boys’ night with Dan.”

He sniffed. “He’s the one doing the planning.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m the victim here, Detective!”

“Sure you are. And,” she got the railing down and sat next to his hip. “ _Chloe_. I like it when you use it.” She hadn’t know he’d still felt unsure enough about them that he’d revert to, among other things, avoiding her name. She was grateful for Trixie’s relentless affection to guide him back to the present, really. She wasn’t sure she could have taken more of his confusion, but her little monkey was her own kind of miracle, heaven-sent or not.

“Chloe.” She smiled. “I’m bored here now. Do you think they’d release me?”

“Well, the doctor said you were healing faster than she’d thought possible, but…”

“Please?” Oh no, he was doing the sad eyes.

“Fine. We’ll ask tomorrow morning, all right?”

“But…”

“And I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

“But I don’t want to sleep anymore!” She gave him her best Mom Glare (c), and he sighed. Too bad, Satan. You’re doomed, no one can resist the Mom Glare. “Fine.”

“Good. It’s just… I was so scared, Lucifer. Why do I make you so fragile?”

“Less fragile than a human.”

“Much more so than when I’m not around.”

“You know,” he said. “It’s all worth it. Each and every second here… worth it.”

His eyes on her were soft and full of wonder, and when he turned his hand in hers to join them tighter she bent a little and kissed him. The devil might be a marshmallow, but he was her marshmallow, crispy bits and all; and she’d only share him with their little family.


End file.
